


Southern Exposure

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [27]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Age Difference, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Infidelity, Poor Life Choices, Power Imbalance, Unhealthy Relationships, art as a hobby, smart girls making stupid decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: Staying at Wendell Abbey has changed Verity's life in ways that affect her liaison with Hyperion. This story is a companion piece to "Cold Shoulder".
Relationships: Arland Princess/King of Revaire
Series: Decline and Fall [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 1





	Southern Exposure

It was a quiet time in Wendell Abbey, and it seemed that Verity would finally find a bit of the solitude she so craved. Ordinarily, Gisette and the Queen were both quite insistent that Verity spend her time in company, or out-of-doors. Queen Violetta in particular considered visiting with the neighborhood worthies to be the best possible way to spend her days in the countryside. Sunshine and fresh air were much lauded, as well, and Verity was forced to admit that she had spent more time out-of-doors since arriving at Lost Lake than ever before in her life, including during the Summit. 

If she wanted a day free of their influence, she had to choose her battles wisely. She waited for a day when the abbey was particularly quiet. Lord Eronn Bloudelle, Lady Cendrile's oft-absent husband, had arrived to whisk her and the children away to visit his own family. His daughter's absence had led Duke Wendell to shut himself in his library, more reticent and melancholy than ever. Gisette had wheedled and needled until she was given leave to pursue her own intrigues, via a week-long visit to friends in the neighborhood, and Jarrod, of course, was much more interested in going boating with the Kallis brothers than anything his wife did. 

That left only the Queen to manage, and she had already handed Verity the key to victory herself, without even realizing it. Verity thought perhaps she wouldn't recall praising her drawings all those weeks and months ago, but she did. When she suggested that she could benefit from several hours' quiet, uninterrupted time to practice her sketches, the Queen's face fairly lit up. For a moment, Verity could glimpse something of what she must have looked like when she was young and fresh, before years and resentment and her marriage to Hyperion had wilted her. 

So it was that she managed to win herself a whole morning and afternoon alone in Wendell's south-facing gallery, where the light was best. It wasn't a comfortable space, but she had been provided with a table, chair and cushion, and wanted for little more. She spent the morning in quiet contemplation, and her sketch book began to fill with dreamy, half-hearted vignettes of birds, insects and flowers.

Not long after midday an elderly maid interrupted her musings long enough to leave a tray of tea, bread, and butter. Other than that, her solitude was satisfyingly complete.

She must have let her guard drop, sometime during her precious, quiet morning. For whatever reason, she neither heard nor sensed anything amiss before a warm, heavy hand descended on her shoulder, and a long shadow fell over her blank white page.

"Hello, Verity."

She didn't bother hiding her sigh, before balancing her pencil against the open book and tipping her head up to face her visitor.

"I wasn't expecting any interruptions," she said simply.

"And I didn't expect to see a bright young thing like you moldering in this dark, crumbling old house," said Hyperion.

"There's plenty of sunlight here," said Verity, gesturing at the wide-open shutters. "And I wasn't moldering, but rather practicing my drawing skills."

"I can see that," he said, his eyes flicking to the open pages and the small figures scattered over them. "Do you ever draw anything more sensible than these little butterflies and things?"

"No, never," said Verity earnestly.

He didn't look especially amused.

"Is there a reason Your Majesty saw fit to visit me today?" she asked, locking her hands in her lap.

Hyperion ran his hand up from her shoulder to cup her face, running the tip of his thumb over her lower lip. Her breath caught in her throat before she forced it loose again by power of will alone.

"No," he said, "no reason at all."

She knew his game. He wanted her to beg. She took a deep breath and said, more brashly than her thumping heart could back up, "Then you didn't come to ask me to take your portrait?"

He let out a short bark of a laugh. "Time has made you bold, little princess. I think Revaire is a good influence on you."

"My mother would say rather the opposite, I suspect," said Verity.

He tipped her face up with one fingertip under her chin and leaned down to kiss her. She gasped and, before she realized what she was doing, pulled away from his touch.

Hyperion frowned down at her, looking more curious than angry. "Is this some new game you're playing, Verity?"

"I don't--" Verity started to say, but stopped before she could let slip the words _I don't know_.

"You don't play games?" he asked, his mouth quirking into a sardonic smile. "The past year or so would suggest otherwise."

She couldn't fault his logic.

"Why _did_ you come to see me?" she insisted.

"Your birthday is soon," said Hyperion. "I've been thinking... about your gift."

Of course Verity couldn't forget about the _gift_ he'd given her last year. She felt blood rush to her face, and hoped fruitlessly that it wasn't as brightly visible as her imagination painted it.

"Good," he said. "I'd begun to think that you lost the taste for gifts. Now I can spend the time remaining making plans."

"Plans?" asked Verity before she could think better of it.

He smiled again, a wide, shark-like smile. "Of course. I have to exceed last year's present, don't I?"

"Do you?" she asked. " _I'd_ begun to think you were growing complacent."

"Don't worry, Verity," he said. "I'm quite confident in my ability to retain your attention."

"Even out here in the countryside?" she asked. "Competing with the lake, and the meadows, and the fresh air and all that."

He snorted. "Would you rather go boating?" Then he made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, and added, "Actually, that might provide a decent opportunity for privacy."

"Assuming no one comments on our leaving or returning together," Verity pointed out.

"I see you're as irritatingly cautious as ever," said Hyperion.

"Because I'm at least twice as likely as you to get murdered if we get found out," said Verity.

He laughed.

"Why the sudden urgency?" she asked, for the third time. "You've left well enough alone for most of the summer."

"I was busy," he replied. "I assure you, it wasn't for lack of interest. _I_ would rather be here, bending you over that nice little table of yours, rather than out and about chasing those pathetic self-styled rebels." He sighed a long-suffering sigh and added, "But such is life."

He wasn't speaking idly. His hand hadn't strayed, and Verity found it difficult not to lean into the warm touch, even against her better judgment. And she knew that getting up from her seat would rather drive her closer to him than away from him. Which was his design in enfolding her between himself and the table, of course. He did this nearly every time they met, although she never tried to escape him. It was one of the small mysteries of his style of game-playing that Verity wondered if she would ever solve.

Hyperion trailed his fingers down her braid and said, "You changed your hair, didn't you?"

"I'm surprised you noticed," she said frankly.

"Why not?" he said, letting his fingertips wander up to the nape of her neck. "I like it. No point in bundling it up or tucking it out of sight."

Verity expected him to try and kiss her again, and she honestly wasn't sure how she would react. He didn't. Instead he grasped her wrist with his free hand, just under where she'd rolled up her gown's wide sleeve cuffs. Bracing her hand on the edge of the table behind her, Verity leveraged herself into a standing position. Hyperion smiled as though he'd expected her to do exactly that.

He pulled her near, his breath skimming against her ear when he said, "It's been a while since we had time alone. Did you miss this?"

She _had_ missed it, though of course she wouldn't say as much. She couldn't, however, bottle up her soft, breathy sigh at the feeling of his warm breath against her skin.

"I missed..." he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and leaning in to press his face into the curve of her throat. "I missed your sweet scent."

A long, cold shudder raced down her spine. She braced both hands against Hyperion's chest and pulled away.

He stood straight up and took a half-step back. _Now_ he looked angry. "What is _wrong_ with you today, Verity?"

" _Nothing_!" said Verity. "Nothing."

Hyperion crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

"I don't want to play today," she said, finally, her voice wavering. "At least-- not right now."

"It would have made matters much simpler for me," he said, leaning forward to pierce her with a hard stare, "if you had said as much to begin with."

She would have, if she'd known how. Or _why_.

"I don't appreciate vagueness or indecision," said Hyperion. "You'd do well to remember that, little princess."

And he turned and walked away, shutting the door quite firmly behind him.

Verity sank back down to her padded chair, feeling as though all the breath had been knocked right out of her. Somewhere deep in her gut was a pleading whine that wanted to burst out the door and beg him to come back, but her skin felt cold and clammy. She clasped her damp hands together, as tightly as she could, and waited for her heartbeat to slow down to a rational clip. Though, the more she thought about it, the more she had to agree that there was nothing very rational about any of this.


End file.
